


This Is How We Get Things Done

by bethfrish



Category: Hotel Dusk
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-28
Updated: 2009-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethfrish/pseuds/bethfrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't you just love it?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is How We Get Things Done

Hyde got back in the car and dropped the bag on the dashboard.

"Big Mac. No onions," he grunted, then stripped off his gloves and rubbed his hands together. "Holy fucking hell, is it cold out." 

"Not much better in here," Bradley reassured him. "You got fries right?" he asked, reaching for the bag. 

"Doyle, fucking Irish bastard. I can't believe he put us on surveillance. What the fuck does he think I am? Some rookie detective, afraid to flash his gun? How many years have I been on the force again? Remind me." 

Bradley popped the lid on his Big Mac. "Just eat your sandwich, sunshine. Before it freezes." Hyde grabbed the bag and pulled out a cheeseburger. "Goddamn it," he said, staring at the greasy pile of fries at the bottom. "I forgot to get ketchup." 

Bradley reached into his coat for a cigarette. "Like I'd let you squirt ketchup all over my car anyway." He flicked his lighter and pressed the filter to his lips, peering out the window at the darkened apartment across the street. Lifeless, moldy brick stared back at him. Three hours and a not a peep. 

"This is ridiculous," Hyde said between mouthfuls of cheeseburger. "There's no way in hell anyone's gonna show here. I mean, they already know we're onto them thanks to Anderson and his dumb shit of a partner." Bradley leaned over and offered Hyde his cigarette. "Thanks," Hyde muttered, taking it between his fingers. "But don't you just love it? They blow the cover, and we're the ones parked outside in this fucking ice cube tray." 

"If I have to listen to you complain all night," Bradley said, jamming his hands back into his gloves, "you're gonna end up undercover out on the corner." 

Hyde just grinned and stuffed his hand into the bag for some fries. "What a partner." 

Bradley tensed his jaw, pulling his hat further down on his head. "You do know I'm sending you out again to get me some fresh coffee, right? Because I'm sure as hell not setting foot outside this car." 

Hyde gave him the finger. 

"Asshole," Bradley laughed. "All right, I get it. It's the goddamn South Pole out there." 

"So you are human after all. I was starting to wonder." Hyde hunched over and folded his arms into his chest. "Can you turn the heat on again?" 

"We're supposed to be undercover here," Bradley said flatly, but turned the key in the ignition anyway. 

Hyde brought his hands up to the vents as the engine kicked and sputtered. "I'm beginning to think that nobody actually lives on this block." Outside, the road gleamed icy black beneath the tired glow of the streetlamps, while the building across the street remained ominously deserted. "Though, and correct me if I'm wrong here," Hyde continued after a moment, "this is nowhere near as bad as the time we had to wait around all afternoon in the ninety-five degree heat." 

Bradley turned the knob to full blast, floor rattling beneath them. "Jesus Christ, that was awful." 

"But we got him," Hyde said proudly, putting his face against the blower. "We kicked that son of a bitch's door down and he didn't know where the hell we even came from. The look on his face when you cuffed him." 

"Probably had more to do with the fact that I smelled like a locker room." Bradley grudgingly turned the key to kill the engine. "Or how about the time I sat in the parking lot of that bar for two and a half hours, listening to you get drunk off your ass. That's the last time they let your sorry self carry a wire." 

"Well what did you want me to order? Some fruity, fairy drink with a cherry in the straw?" Hyde leaned back in his seat, savoring the warmth while it was still there. "We busted that deal too." 

"No thanks to you." 

"Yeah well." Hyde squinted out the window at their too-quiet target. "I found out early on that I'm not good at that kind of stuff. I got 'cop' written all over me. You, on the other hand." 

"Me, on the other hand," Bradley echoed. 

Hyde crumpled up the McDonald's bag and dropped it somewhere by his feet. "When do you get moved to the Nile case?" 

Bradley gave a sort of half-sigh, breath coming out in a tiny puff of condensation. "As soon as this one wraps up." 

Hyde shook his head. "I can't believe they actually want to send someone undercover," he said heatedly. "They've got to be fucking nuts. And you're nuts for going along with it." 

"What the hell was I supposed to tell them? _No_?" Bradley asked, rubbing at the fog on the window with his elbow. "We're steaming up the windows in here, and not in the fun way." 

Hyde craned his neck as a taxi rolled by. "I don't know what you should have told them." Then he turned to look at Bradley. "Hey, where'd the coffee go?" 

Bradley groped around by his feet until he came up with a blue thermos. "Here." 

Hyde unscrewed the lid and took a drink, swishing it around his mouth for a second before he swallowed. He made a face. "God that's awful. Tastes like lukewarm dirt." He tossed the thermos back onto the floor, shooing it away with his foot. Then he leaned back in his seat, running a gloved hand over the familiar upholstery. "You're going to miss being partners with me, you know," he said. "It might be a while before we get another chance to sit out here and freeze our nuts off." 

"Then I guess it's kind of nice we got this assignment tonight." 

Hyde laughed. "Shit. Only a sadistic son of a bitch—" Suddenly his smile vanished. "No way. You didn't." 

Bradley rubbed casually at the window. "What?" 

"Bradley. _You did._ You volunteered us for this bullshit stakeout." 

"And what would you say if I did?" 

Hyde snorted. "What would I say? I'd say you're a fucking asshole, that's what I'd say. It's five fucking degrees out here." 

"Duly noted," Bradley replied calmly. "But let's not forget how you smashed up seven hundred dollars worth of equipment in that bar fight. This could just be one of Doyle's friendly reminders." 

"Jesus, that was like two years ago. He would remember that, the bastard," Hyde grumbled. "That thing was a clunky piece of shit anyway. Hey!" He sat straight up in his seat, eyes trained on the building across the street. "Wait, no. Never mind. Just a couple of kids. Who the hell lets their kids run around at one o'clock in the morning?" 

Bradley braced his hands on the steering wheel, even though they weren't going anywhere anytime soon. "I can keep watch for a couple of hours if you want to catch some sleep. I've got a feeling we're in for a long one." 

Hyde opened the glove compartment and reached for his cigarettes. "And let you hog all the coffee?" He fumbled with the pack, trying to shake one into his hand. "Damn gloves," he muttered, tearing the right one off with his teeth. He patted the front of his coat absently. "I don't know where my lighter went." 

Bradley took off his own gloves and pulled his lighter from his pocket. "Here's to you, partner," he said, flipping it open, but Hyde caught his hand and pressed the metal into his palm. 

"Don't you forget it," he warned, and when Bradley flicked away the cigarette from between his lips, Hyde just laughed, low and quiet, and leaned in.


End file.
